


Stealing Time

by faithfulpenelope



Series: The Thousandth Man [5]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Academy Era, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-24
Updated: 2016-10-25
Packaged: 2018-08-24 12:29:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8372305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faithfulpenelope/pseuds/faithfulpenelope
Summary: He and Bones, they never have enough time together.





	1. Chapter 1

Jim’s comm chimes as he’s jogging down the steps of Cochrine Hall.

_> You around tonight? _

_> Xeno-linguistics club at 2000 hrs. After? _

_> Not unless you want to watch me sleep. Got surgery prep at 0500. _

Jim huffs out a frustrated noise. _Tomorrow night?_

 _You’ve got that meeting about your engineering practicum,_ Bones sends back, and Jim swears under his breath.

_> After THAT then? _

_I can do that,_ Bones writes. There’s a long pause, then another message flashes onto the screen. _Miss you._

The two short words stop Jim mid-step, and he has to take a second before he can respond.

_> Me too, Bones. Me too._

xxxxxxxxx

He and Bones, they never have a lot of free time together.

He’s got four years of classes to do in three, and Bones carries a full course load while acting as an attending at the hospital. Above all that, there’s the constant reminder that their relationship is, technically, a secret; they’re connected in too many public ways – as doctor and patient, as future commanding and serving officers – to reveal their private one. So they’re careful about how they appear in public, and about how often Jim sleeps over, keeping it mostly to the weekends, when they can claim late-night cramming sessions or drunkenness if questioned. For the most part, it works.

Except for the last few weeks, their schedules haven’t been just hectic but at all-out _war_ with each other. If one is free, the other is busy: with classes, with hospital shifts, with training and advisor meetings and every other activity known to man. It’s been days since they’ve had lunch together, a week since they’ve had an evening to themselves, and – not that Jim is counting – seventeen days since they’ve been in the same bed. To sleep, or do anything else.

Jim’s starting to get _itchy_.

Not just for sex – although there is a small part of him that’s somewhat surprised that the sex isn’t his only concern – but for Bones, for his smile and his smell and the weight of him tucked up against Jim as they sleep. It’s new to Jim, this whole wanting only one person thing, and it complicates things in a way he would have found annoying before. Now, though – now, it’s almost _enticing_ , the thought of working for what he really wants, the delayed gratification he knows he feel when he finally has Bones to himself.

And if until then, he’s a little on edge, well, people would just have to deal with it.


	2. Chapter 2

_> You’re gonna hate me. _

_> BONES! _

_> I’m sorry. Patient’s not doing well post-surgery. They need me around to monitor the situation. _

_And you are apparently the only doctor left in Starfleet_ , Jim types, knowing full well he’s sulking. He isn’t surprised when McCoy’s response comes back just as tense.

_> He’s my patient. I’m supposed to leave him because you want to hang out? _

_Whatever,_ Jim almost types, but catches himself, takes a deep breath instead. Of course Bones’s first responsibility is to his patients; Jim would never ask anything else of him. _No, obviously not_ , he types instead. _I know you have to be there. It just sucks._

 _It really does,_ Bones types back. _I am sorry, Jim._

_> I know. We’ll get our shit together eventually. _

_> I did manage to get out for a minute. You stopping for lunch? _

_> Can’t. Nav class ran late and now I’ve got 15 minutes to get to this special seminar for us command-track types. _

_> Mitchell going? _

_> Gary? Yeah, why?_

xxxxxxxxx

A bag thunks of the table in front of him, and Jim looks up.

“McCoy told me to give that to you,” Gary grouches, slamming a coffee cup down next to the bag, “because apparently I’m his errand boy.”

There’s a full lunch inside, plus a few extra snacks, and Jim grins. “Well done, Jeeves,” he tells Gary, who huffs indignantly and drops into his seat.

_> You’re the best, Bones. _

_> Mitchell didn’t eat any of it, did he?_

“Bones wants to know if you ate any of it,” Jim tells Gary.

“And risk the wrath of McCoy? Do I look stupid to you?"

_> He resisted as to not anger you. _

_> Huh. He must be smarter than he looks._

“What’s with you two?” Gary asks as Jim stuffs his sandwich in his mouth. “’Cause it’s a little weird how he dotes on you.” 

“He doesn’t dote on me,” Jim says around a mouthful of bread.

“Okay,” Gary says flatly, casting a critical eye towards the bag of food. “Sure.”

“He knows I’m busy and doesn’t want me to starve,” Jim protests. “It’s called being a _nice person._ ”

“Except McCoy is the opposite of a nice person. He’s a miserable bastard.”

Jim feels his hackles going up a little, and he bites back the urge to tell Gary _you don’t know shit about Leonard McCoy._ “Don’t blame me because no one’s looking out for your sorry ass,” he says instead as the lecturer calls the seminar to session.

“Whatever. Just tell McCoy to find another lackey next time.”


	3. Chapter 3

_> Gary thinks you dote on me. _

_> Then I retract my previous statement about him being smarter than he looks._

Jim laughs.

_> But as to his comment, I’m not sure trying to keep you alive and functional can be called “doting”. _

_> Ah, I see. Your concern for me, it’s purely medical. _

_> Well, I wouldn’t say that now._

Jim can hear the slow drawl in Bones’s words, and he lies back on his bed, gets a little more comfortable. _Are you saying you have a…personal interest in me, Bones?_ he types, a small seed of hope unfurling, well, if not in his heart, then a little lower.

_> You know damn well where my interest lies. _

_Maybe you should remind me,_ Jim sends, and flicks open the button of his uniform pants.

_> Jim. _

_> Bones. _

_> No. _

_> No, what? _

_> I’m not – YOU KNOW._

“Damn it!” Jim yells into his empty room.

_> WHY. NOT. _

_> Two words, Jim: Official. Channels. _

_> I’m going to official channel you. _

_> I don’t even know what that means. And stop pouting._

Jim sucks in his lower lip. _Wasn’t pouting,_ he types, just to be contrary.

 _Yeah, okay._ There’s a long pause before another comment pops up. _I feel your pain, Jim. Trust me._

Jim sighs.

_> Yeah. I know._

xxxxxxxxx

“So he won’t even sext with you?” Gaila asks in a hushed whisper. The horrified look on her face would be funny, if it wasn’t Jim she was so concerned for.

“No,” Jim says mournfully. They’re tucked into a far corner of one of the engineering labs, waiting on Gaila’s code to run itself through to completion. “It’s been nineteen days, Gaila. _Nineteen days_.” Gaila makes a sad noise, pets his hair. “I think I’m going to _explode_ soon.”

“And you would never, you know.” She leans in conspiratorially. “Find a _temporary outlet._ ”

The cadet in front of them stills, her eyes flicking to the side as she strains to hear their conversation. Gaila hisses at her, pulls Jim down further behind her monitor. “That’s the strangest part,” he whispers. “I don’t even want to. I just want _him_.”

“Oh, Jim.”

“I know.”

“You’re truly done for, aren’t you?”

“I think I am,” he says. “And oddly enough, I think I’m okay with it.”

“Well, I’m not,” Gaila gripes, her smile belaying her true feelings. “Do you know how long it took to break you in properly?”

“Excuse me,” Jim protests. “I came fully functional.”

Gaila snorts. “Literally and figuratively, I’m sure.”


	4. Chapter 4

_> Where you at? _

_> …Pardon? _

_> I said, where you at? _

_> Gee, I was under the impression we spoke Standard here at the Academy. _

_> Oh. EXCUSE me, Doctor Fancy-Pants. Might I inquire as to your current location? _

_> Thank you. I’m cutting through Sloane Hall on my way back to check on my patient. Why, where you at? _

_> Look left. _

xxxxxxxxx

Jim allows Bones a few seconds of confused silence before he grabs him by the elbow and yanks.

“God damn it, what in the hell are you doing –”

Kirk’s got the storage room door lock already hacked and he keys it active as he slams Bones up against the wall and kisses him. McCoy’s protest dies with a low sound in the back of his throat as he gets with the program, _quick_ , his hands wrapping around Jim’s waist to haul him in closer. He doesn’t even complain when Jim sinks his hands into his hair, just moans into his mouth, and there it is, that flood of love and gratification and satisfaction that Jim’s been desperate for. He licks into Bones’s mouth, whimpers when Bones sucks at his tongue, bites at his lower lip. Jim nips back, snakes a hand between them and palms his dick, and Bones’s hips jerk forward against him.

“Jim,” Bones pants against his mouth, “Jim, please,” his head thumping against the wall when Jim presses harder, “Jim – I have to wear these pants the rest of the day –”, and Jim can’t help it, he laughs.

“I like that your main concern is not getting jerked off in a storage closet but making sure your pants don’t get stained,” he murmurs against Bones’s ear. Bones growls, digs his fingers in tighter against Jim’s shoulder, and Jim relents, drops to his knees, just as –

The emergency klaxen whoops twice, the lights flashing in time, before the speaker right next to McCoy comes alive. _This is a test of the emergency readiness system. All cadets to report to their proper stations immediately_.

“ _No_ ,” Bones protests frantically as Jim heaves a sigh and stands, “ _no, Jim, no_ , where are you _going_.”

“I can’t afford another demerit –”

“ _Now_? You chose _now_ to care about demerits?” Bones screeches, his voice hitting a dangerously high register.

“Bones, I’m sorry.” It’s all he can do not to say _fuck it_ and pin Bones to the wall, but Pike was clear: one more demerit and he’s going to be spending what little free time he has doing community service hours, which means less Bones in the long run. In a strange way, he’s a little proud of his new-found maturity. “I really am.”

“You’re a goddamn _cocktease_ is what you are,” Bones whines, his face pinched in blue-balled pain, as Jim sticks his head out, scouts out their escape route. “Jim, this isn’t _fair_.”

“I know, baby, I’m sorry,” Jim pleads, kisses Bones hard in a way that he hopes conveys just how _desperately sorry_ he is, “I will make it up to you but we have to go, now.”

They make it out just in time, the security bots registering their presence right before the countdown ends. Jim heads over towards the command-track cadets as Bones, still red-faced and glowering, stomps towards the mock-emergency medical station. “Hey, McCoy,” Gary calls, and Jim groans, swipes his fingers across his throat in the universal sigh for _shut your stupid mouth_. Mitchell ignores him. “You look like you just got in a tousle with an angry cat. You all right?”

Bones doesn’t even pause, just bellows, “ _go fuck yourself, Mitchell_ ,” loud enough that the security bot swivels its silver head in alarm.

Mitchell gapes, then glares at Jim and points silently.

“I know,” Jim laments, sits himself on the sidewalk with a defeated sigh. “Trust me, I know.”


	5. Chapter 5

_> You doing okay?  Take care of your…problem?_

_> If you had called it little, I would have never spoken to you again. _

_> I would never insult my best friend like that. Or you, for that matter. _

No answer.

_> Get it? Bones? _

_> Bonnnnnnnnnes. _

_> Are you there? _

_> You know I love you both equally, right?_

McCoy’s responses finally flash through.

_> For fuck’s sake Jim _

_> Hold your goddamn horses _

_> I just got cornered by YOUR advisor wanting to know if you’re actually going to show up to your meeting today._

Jim winces.

_> Ah crap. _

_> Yeah, yeah. Now go see Pike. Try not to piss him off TOO much. _

_> Oh come on. I have to have SOME fun_.

xxxxxxxxx

“Cadet Kirk. You’re strangely on time.”

“Captain.” Jim lays a hand over his heart. “You make it sound like I don’t cherish our meetings together.”

Pike snorts, waves Jim into the open seat in front of his desk. “Which is why you unfailingly attempt to get out of them before I have to haul you in, kicking and screaming.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jim deadpans. “My respect for the administrative process is unflinching.”

“Tell that to my assistant. He’s in therapy because of you, you know.”

Jim rolls his eyes. “You can’t tell me there weren’t preexisting issues there.”

Pike stifles a laugh, because he’s pretty sure Jim’s right. Lieutenant Colon is nice enough but more than a little high-strung. “Classes?” he asks instead.

“Fine.”

“Extra-curriculars?”

“Fine.”

“Training?”

“Fine.” Pike eyes him over his PADD. “Okay, I’m a few hours behind.” An especially rough session – otherwise known as Cupcake, trying to take his belated revenge – left him with a bruised rib. Bones fixed him up but even he couldn’t get Jim out of the mandatory week off.

“Your social calendar seems to have calmed,” Pike says, which is his way of saying, _you haven’t gotten kicked out of any new bars lately_.

“Yeah, well, thought I’d give San Francisco a little break. Only so much Jim Kirk one city can handle.”

Pike makes a non-committal noise. “And here I thought it had something to do with the good Dr. McCoy.”

Jim freezes, then turns pink, torn between embarrassment that Pike has thought about his romantic life and annoyance that Pike would assume Bones has somehow _tamed_ him. “Sir, I don’t think that’s entirely appropriate –”

Now it’s Pike’s turn to flush. “ _What_ – No, I just meant the two of you seem to be good influences on each other. I didn’t mean – I don’t think about your _love life_ , Kirk, _Jesus_.”

“ _Oh_ – oh, yeah, of course,” Jim stammers. “Yeah. Good influences. Sure.”

Pike huffs, the picture of annoyed awkwardness. “Any other issues I need to know about?” he asks. “ _Academy-related_ issues?”

“No, sir,” Jim says quickly. “Not a one.”

“Then you’re dismissed.” Jim nods, then shoots out of his seat and out the door faster than a phaser shot. Pike rubs his temples. “I’m going to be joining Colon in therapy before this is all over, I just know it.”


	6. Chapter 6

_> How’d Pike go? _

_> Fine. Perfectly normal. Nothing weird at all. _

_> … _

_How’s your patient?_ Jim redirects.

 _Don’t ask,_ comes Bones’s reply, and Jim winces, because _don’t ask_ is Bones-speak for _not good_.

_> I’m in the cafeteria, you want me to bring you anything? _

_> Stay put. I’m walking in right now._

xxxxxxxxx

Jim doesn’t have to wait long.

There’s a group of cadets by the door but they seem to all decide at once that today is _not_ a good day to die and part for Bones like he’s Moses and they’re the Red Sea. Even without the cloud of angry doom hovering over him Bones is immediately noticeable, because he’s not in uniform, cadet or medical, but his short-sleeved hospital scrubs. It’s a violation of cadet code and the Academy supervisor on duty takes immediate note, pressing her lips into a tight frown. She stands and, obviously lacking the self-preservation instinct that her students have embraced, steps in front of McCoy.

At which point, Bones actually, _literally_ , growls at her.

She steps aside.

A second later Bones is slamming down into the seat next to Jim and he doesn’t even have time to think before a hand darts out and snatches his plate away.

“No, please, have some,” Jim says dryly. Bones shoves a forkful of food into his mouth and grunts, a slightly apologetic sound that Jim chooses to believe means _I’m sorry I’m being so rude, thank you for sharing_ but probably means _go suck a lemon._

“You seem very tense, Dr. Leonard,” Gaila says sympathetically, her hand coming to rest lightly on his forearm, and McCoy’s scowl softens slightly.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he says, his voice as tired as the rest of him. “It’s this one patient I just can’t get stabilized. I operated three days ago but he crashed again this afternoon, and someone else had to deal with it because _I_ was stuck stitching back together some _idiot_ cadet who didn’t know his _ass_ from his _elbow_ and thought mountain climbing without a rope was a _grand_ idea.” He side-eyes Jim for the last part, as if to ward off Jim getting any unnecessary ideas of his own. Jim tries to look appropriately horrified.

“I’m sure he’ll be all right,” Gaila soothes, and lifts her hand from McCoy’s forearm to brush back the dark lock of hair that’s fallen across his forehead. It’s an innocent gesture; despite what some people might think about Orions Jim knows Gaila would never make a move on Bones. He feels his hackles rising nonetheless, and before he can even stop it, he’s making his own growling noise.

Gaila’s hand drops down. Bones’s eyebrow shoots up.

“Oh,” Gaila says in a conspiratorial hush that doesn’t match the twinkle in her eye. “I think Jim didn’t like me touching his things.”

Jim frowns, deep.

“That true, Jim?” Bones says, his lip twitching in a barely-contained smirk.

 _No, I don’t_ , Jim almost says, but Bones’s medical comm beeps instead, flashes some sort of urgent-looking code. Bones curses and grabs his bag and Jim’s drink. “Gotta go,” he barks, and then he’s gone in the shimmer of an emergency medical transport.

Jim watches the lights fade, finds Gaila gazing at him with an assessing look on her face. He jabs a finger at her with a huff. “Don’t start with me,” he warns.

She ignores him. “You really are done for,” she says gleefully.

Jim just sighs.


	7. Chapter 7

_> Please tell me you’re around tonight. _

_> … _

_> Shit. You’ve got training. _

_> I’ll cancel. What’s wrong? _

_> No. Don’t cancel. You’re already behind in your hours. _

_> I’ll come by after. _

_> We’ve had this discussion, Jim. Seriously, it’s fine. Just been a real shit day. I’m just going to hit the sack early. I’ll talk to you in the morning. _

_> Bones. Is it your patient? _

_> Just make sure you eat before training, okay? _

xxxxxxxx

It’s fairly obvious to Jim what’s happened, even before he lets himself into Bones’s dorm room. The open bottle of bourbon on the kitchenette counter just confirms it.

He can hear the soft sound of Bones breathing, but there’s enough light from the bedroom window that Jim can see Bones isn’t resting peacefully. The crease between his brows is still there and his jaw is stiff, clenched in worry. Jim undresses quietly and slips under the covers, presses himself up close as Bones startles awake, his breath catching in his chest. “Jim?” he blinks at him, bleary-eyed from his restless sleep. Jim hums a soft confirmation, tucks his nose up against Bones’s warm neck and breathes deep. The jaw muscles against his temple start to relax and he feels more than hears the murmur of “ _Jim, darlin’_ ,” as Bones twists in his arms, wraps himself tight around Jim.

For a long minute, Jim just holds him, lets himself sink into the feeling of Bones against him like he would into a calm, clear lake. Then he presses a kiss against a warm ear and murmurs, “I’m sorry about your patient.”

Bones tenses for just a second, but then he sighs out a dispirited breath, doesn’t even bother to ask how Jim knew. “Thanks,” he whispers against Jim’s shoulder instead.

“Can I ask –” Jim doesn’t know how to say it so it doesn’t sound like an insult. _Why are you so bothered by this death._ As if Bones isn’t bothered by every death he sees.

“What makes this one so hard?” Bones supplies.

“Yeah.”

Bones rolls onto his back, pulls Jim so he moves with him, tucked up against his side. “He didn’t live here,” he says, “not Earth, not this solar system. He was stationed at Starbase Lexington, way the hell out in the black, and they told him to come all the way back here so I could operate on him. So I could _save_ him. His family – I could see it on their faces, that they thought there was no way Starfleet would have told them to come this far if it wasn’t going to work. And then…” He scrubs his eyes with the back of one hand as his voice trails off. “The surgery failed. I failed.”

“Bones,” Jim says softly. He reaches out, pulls his hand away from his face, strokes the soft skin of his cheek instead. “You did not fail. You did everything you could have possibly done."  Bones doesn't respond, just stares blankly at the ceiling, and Jim nudges his chin, forces him to look at Jim instead.  "Hey.  Aren't you always telling me there are always going to be things out of our control?  Things we just have to accept no matter how much we hate it?"

Bones frowns, but he can't subvert his own logic, and Jim can see the moment when he seems to accept it.  "No fair using my own words against me," he grouses, but his soft touch against Jim's chest takes away the sting.  

"Yeah, well.  Only fair I should get to give the speech sometimes."

Bones hums his agreement, then turns on his side to study Jim more fully.  He's got a funny look on his face, one Jim can't quite read.  "What?" he says finally.  

"Jocelyn and I," Bones says, and Jim blinks in stunned surprise, "when we got together - we were so young and ambitious and Jocelyn, she's a perfectionist, worse than me even.  For a long time it was a great motivator, the feeling of having satisfied her insane standards - I mean, there's a reason I made it through medical school and got my PhD so fast.   Except it didn't ease up after I got my license.  I was just licensed, still learning how to stand on my own as a doctor, working crazy hours, and yet still.  It felt like it was never enough for her.  I was never enough for her.  If something like this had happened..." He shakes his head.  "I can still see the look on her face.  That long, assessing look she would give me from across the dinner table."

"I hate her," Jim says against his shoulder, his voice quiet but vehement.  "I hate her for treating you like that."  Bones strokes his hand down Jim's back, squeezes his shoulder as if to say,  _it's all right now_.

"It wasn't all her fault.  I was working so much, we never actually _saw_ each other.  We all know I'm difficult on the best of days and we were both stubborn as all hell.  Somewhere along the way I stopped talking and she kept judging and the  _resentment,_ it just kept building.  Then my dad got sick."  Bones swallows thick, and Jim can almost see how heavy the memory lays on him.  "After he died - we were arguing about this study I had proposed that had gotten rejected.  She was explaining in excruciating detail what I had done wrong, how I hadn't been  _properly committed_ to it, which was her way of saying I needed to come to terms with his death and refocus on our lives already.  And I mean - she had a point, she did, but I was just so fucking _mad_.  Mad at what had happened and so mad I couldn't - I couldn't even talk to my  _wife_ about it."

It hits Jim suddenly and he pushes up on his elbows, looks down at Bones in shock.  "Bones - did you - did you never her tell her?  Did you never tell her the truth about your father's death?"  Bones doesn't answer, just looks away, and Jim lets out a jagged breath.  " _Jesus,_ Bones."

"I was going to," he says finally, his voice quiet.  "I was going to, and then the other researchers, they figured it out -" His voice cuts off, and he shakes his head.  "She looked at me like I was a complete disappointment.  If I had told her I had helped him end his life..." 

"I'm so sorry," Jim whispers, because it breaks his heart to think of Bones suffering so alone.  "I'm so sorry, baby."

"So we're arguing," Bones says, lost in his memory, "and she's pushing and pushing, and all I can think is, she's more angry that someone else made the breakthrough and got the credit than she is about my dad dying."  He sighs.  "The thought was bad enough.  Then I said it out loud."

"Shit, Bones."

"Yeah."  Bones gives a rueful laugh.  "It's a singular feeling, to know the exact moment when your marriage ends."

Jim hasn't the slightest what to say, so he just reaches out, holds Bones's hand in his.  Bones seems to appreciate it for what it is, and presses a kiss against Jim's forehead.

"Promise me that won't happen to us," he says hoarsely, and Jim tenses.  "Not the judgement - I know you would never do that - but promise me we won't stop talking, Jim.  We're both so busy, we hardly see each other, and when we graduate -"

"When we graduate, we're going to get assigned to the same ship if I have to kiss the ass of every admiral in Starfleet," Jim swears, and Bones chuckles, because he believes it.  "But Bones, it wouldn't matter if we got assigned to some shit post dirt-side.  It wouldn't matter if we ended up back in Riverside, putting ships together and patching up reckless engineers.  We will always listen to each other.  We will always support each other.  You know why?"

"Because you're my thousand man," Bones whispers, and Jim smiles, wide and true.

"And you're mine," he whispers back, kisses him with all his soul.  Bones presses him close, as if he could make Jim a physical part of him, as if he could carry Jim inside of himself.  "And where you go, I go.  Do you believe that, Bones?"

"Yes," Bones says immediately, his breath warm against Jim's neck.  "Yes, Jim. I believe it with all my heart."

"Good."  Jim gives him a twisty smile.  "And in the meantime, we'll give some nosy security tech a hell of a communicator transcript to read."

Bones's laugh is strong and bright, and it's like pure energy to Jim's soul.  "All right, darlin'," Bones concedes, and wraps a strong hand around Jim's, tucks it in close to his chest.  "That sounds like a good plan."

 

 


End file.
